


in the doghouse

by M0stlyVoid



Series: Kinktober 2020 [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus Draco Malfoy, BDSM, Collars, Dom Harry Potter, Dom/sub, Electrostimulation, Leashes, M/M, Puppy Play, Sub Draco Malfoy, no bestiality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:34:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26807437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M0stlyVoid/pseuds/M0stlyVoid
Summary: Man's best friend,indeed.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Kinktober 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948741
Comments: 17
Kudos: 286





	in the doghouse

**Author's Note:**

> the october 4 prompt for kinktober 2020 is— _pet/puppy play._

When Harry and Ron first saw Draco’s Animagus form, in the advanced Auror classes designed to get as many of that year’s trainees proficient and registered as possible, they laughed.

Harry’s not proud of it now, of course; he wasn’t entirely proud of himself then, truth be told. They were the only three who’d made it to this final stage, their first transformation attempt, and the instructor had made Malfoy wait for last—no doubt to let him sit and stew and worry, as Harry and Ron popped in and out of their animal forms at the instructor’s directions with ease, prancing around the room and wrestling as Harry’s coal-grey wolf tackled Ron’s clever russet fox across the floor.

Finally, Dawlish had turned to Malfoy and, with barely-hidden scorn, told him to attempt his transformation, _if you think you’re able to_. Malfoy had unfolded himself from the wall and sneered with unconcealed disdain, then gracefully whirled through a flare of silver light that cleared to reveal—

“Bloody fuck,” Ron had cackled. “What kind of dog _is_ that? Fitting, innit, a fancy, sneery little thing—just like Malfoy.”

Dawlish had laughed, and so had Harry, but truly, he’d admired Malfoy’s pale golden fur and the soft-looking feathers over his ears. Malfoy had huffed through his long, elegant nose, then laid on the floor, crossing his paws in front of them. His tail had swished slowly through the air, and as pretty as he was, Harry was forced to admit that if a dog could look bitchy, Malfoy had achieved it.

Dawlish had looked disgruntled, but instructed Malfoy to turn back, and then transform again a few more times before he was forced to admit that all three of them, Malfoy included, had passed with flying colours and were clear to register. As they worked on their forms, Harry had subtly peered over Malfoy’s shoulder to get a glimpse at what he was writing down.

“It’s a Saluki,” Malfoy had said without turning his head. “One of the world’s oldest dog breeds. They were the favoured pets of kings. Known for their loyalty and agility, as well as their tracking and hunting abilities. They’re standoffish with new people, but if you earn their trust they’ll bring down a gazelle for you.”

_Loyalty._

Harry hadn’t wanted to see it at the time, but he sees it now. Draco’s loyalty is hard-won, but permanent, and some days, when Draco unconsciously puts his own body between Harry and an over-eager fan, when he chivvies Harry out of his study and into the kitchen for regular meals, Harry finds it hard to believe _he_ of all people has earned it, after everything.

Draco had quit the Aurors just before their transition from junior to corps, even though Harry had protested. Draco had gently but firmly insisted, though—and his points were all sound, Harry had to admit. The DMLE _wouldn’t_ have allowed them to work together once their relationship was disclosed, and Harry had enough difficulty focusing during training exercises—how would he have coped when the danger to Draco was real, and not a simulation? And anyway, Draco is just as happy fiddling with his alchemy at home as he would have been working as an Auror.

When the news of their relationship broke, Harry weathered the questions and outrage as best he could, knowing Draco had it about a thousand times worse any time he went out in public. Ron and Hermione had frequently asked Harry if it was worth it, all the fuss and outrage and occasionally public recriminations; Harry would just smile and change the subject.

Worth it? Absolutely. But he can never explain it to his friends.

Can never explain the rush he feels when Draco lets Harry clip him into a leash and curls up at his feet, occasionally nosing at his ankles and feet as Harry works.

Can never explain how his heart gets full to the point of breaking when Draco brings Harry his shock collar, the one he brought home one day from a Muggle pet store (and Harry immediately magically modified; electrostimulation is one thing, but he’s not risking Draco’s safety for anything), and lets Harry trigger it at will over the course of a night, two nights, three days, until Draco’s crying to be allowed to come.

And he certainly doesn’t know how he would ever broach _this_ with them. They’d never understand

Harry steps through the Floo and rolls his shoulders as he straightens. He’s still catching up on paperwork from last week’s raid, and he and Ron had been hunched over their desks all day—he’s sore. “Where’s my handsome boy?” he calls, smiling he catches the scrabble of claws on the hardwood floors.

He crouches just in time to catch a blonde whirl of fur, laughing as Draco licks all over his chin and neck. “Hello, darling. Did you have a good day? How did the gnomes out back behave?”

Draco barks, his elegant Saluki Animagus form prancing in proud circles in front of Harry. His sleet tail is wagging up a storm, tongue lolling.

Harry fingers the soft ears, tugging out a knot in the feathering. “If you stay like this for much longer, we’re going to have to visit the groomer for a b-a-t-h and haircut. In fact...” He sits down properly and catches Draco’s long face in between his hands, forcing eye contact. He speaks clearly and slowly, reaching out with his magic to stroke along Draco’s, mostly hidden under the resonance of his Animagus form. “Draco. Draco, are you listening?” The dog cocks his head, but sits politely and thumps his tail on the floor twice. “Good. Draco, it’s been thirteen days. Are you ready to come back?”

This isn’t the first time Draco’s spent extended time in his Animagus form, but it’s by far the longest stretch all at once. He’d mentioned it to Harry once, after a session with the shock collar and leash had them both panting their adrenaline out on the rug in this very room, coming down from the high. He’d been reluctant, but Harry dragged it out of him after much coaxing and caressing—and finally, he’d explained that sometimes, it would be nice to escape, _fully_ escape, from the responsibilities and decisions that rest on his shoulders as the head of the Malfoy estate, to let someone else decide when he eats and exercises, and make sure he has everything he needs. Harry hadn’t been _all_ that surprised, after the direction their love life had taken, and was quick to assure Draco that whatever he needed, he would get, provided they were able to do it safely.

It’s easy to get lost in your Animagus form. Harry almost has before after just a few hours stalking through the woods as a wolf; he’s constantly amazed that Draco’s able to come back to himself enough to check in with Harry on a daily basis.

Draco’s thinking now, that much is clear—his nose is twitching, and his tail is sweeping across the floor. Harry waits patiently, rubbing his hands over Draco’s prominent ribcage. He misses his boyfriend, of course he does—but taking care of Draco like this, knowing the level of trust required for something like this, lights a fire in him like nothing else, and he knows that Draco will always come back to him, and when he does… Harry shivers a bit at the thought, already making plans for when Draco is human again.

Draco’s ears cock and he sniffs, and Harry knows he’s caught an inkling of Harry’s arousal. Harry smiles encouragingly, and after a moment longer, Draco’s tail thumps the floor once, then rests.

 _Thump._ Just one—that’s a no.

Harry nods and kisses him between the eyes. “Alright, then. Are you ready for dinner, or do you want to go for a walk?”

Normally, that word is enough to send Draco into a frenzy of yipping and bouncing, but this time, he sighs through his nose and puts a paw on Harry’s knee.

Harry frowns a bit. Draco’s staring at him, as if… “Ah. Draco, do you want to come back tomorrow?”

 _Thwack, thwack._ Harry can’t contain his grin. Draco’s managed to hold onto his conscious self long enough to realize that Harry will want time to make _preparations,_ and in that moment, Harry’s not sure he’s ever loved him more.

“Good boy,” he whispers, scratching behind Draco’s ears. “Very, _very_ good boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> this fic's tumblr post is [here](https://bonesliketambourines.tumblr.com/post/631090114293104640/kinktober-day-4-in-the-doghouse).


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